


red infuses all my grey decisions

by Anonymous



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Social Anxiety, Technoblade Has ADHD (Video Blogging RPF), Technoblade-centric (Video Blogging RPF), Web Series: Tales from the SMP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-19
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-15 02:47:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29552340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: A cycle can only be destroyed if it is, at first, acknowledged.Maybe it skipped a few generations.Or, Techno would argue heʼs more of an anti-protagonist rather than the villian.
Relationships: Karl Jacobs & Technoblade, Ranboo & Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 172
Collections: anonymous





	red infuses all my grey decisions

**Author's Note:**

> creative liberties on tales of the smp masquerade episode and karls library.
> 
> this is rushed and bad because it is for my friend. techno is written with adhd, hence the thought process, because i myself have it and its hard not to write like that. also he literally does 
> 
> light mention of sbi dynamic uhhh techno is more human than pig bc. we all know why.

Techno doesnʼt think about family much, his world has always be relatively straight forward: _government bad, phil good, social interaction is scary and his family consists of two brothers and a father_. 

He doesnʼt know who his biological parents are, and heʼs never thought to know. Phil is his dad, and thatʼs enough. Sure, sometimes it would probably have been better to be raised by his biological parents, because neither of them knew what to do when his teeth started sharpening just over his lips and his brain started bashing against his skull when he was kept away from Gold. Oh, and also the voices, but he doesnʼt think thats a hybrid thing— he used to think that was one of the things that made him human (because people say he looks more like an anime boy rather than a pig) but then Phil had to tell him that no— people do not hear Gods in their heads on the regular. 

Off topic. Technoʼs world is pretty left and right: government bad, phil good, and social interaction is a living hell. Which is why having to talk to Karl Jacobs in the middle of a random plains biome is especially painful. 

“So, just to be clear, you arenʼt going to Lʼmanberg right?” 

“No,” he says, almost adding on that there isnʼt even anything left of Lʼmanberg but instead saying “Iʼm looking for a new village—” 

“Oh! I was just in one! Iʼll take you!” 

Karl is nice, and people who are nice are sometimes generous, he has to remind himself, so Karl isnʼt trying to make him deeply uncomfortable right now, no, Karl is trying to be nice. He wants to deny the request and awkwardly shuffle away, but he really needs the village, his villagers prices have gone way too high and he needs to find new traders. He bites his lip, “Okay.” 

“Why do you need one? I needed books,” Karl says. That catches his attention, Karl doesnʼt seem like much of a reader. “Why?” 

“I have a library!” 

Which is how, in this moment of time, he is awkwardly standing against a wall in a library. It starts with him being too nervous to say no to Karl asking him if he wants to see his library because its _40 steps away_ and _they can go to the village later_. 

The library is small but nice, obviously made quickly. Books upon books are rested against each other, some handwritten, some not. One of the odd things are the paintings. One of them, at a glance, looks like him, which, even though he has oil paintings of himself in his own house, is really creepy. 

But it clearly isnʼt him because the painting is clearly hundreds of years old— how did Karl manage to get an antique? And the man is probably fully piglin, not closer to human like he is. 

“That,” Karl says with a certain sharpness as he smiles at Techno, “is Sir Billiam.” 

* * *

Karl bites a red apple, drinks some wine thinking its apple juice, and watches his husband get murdered at the first power cut. Not Pog. 

“Look at how they killed him, he was just a boy,” Oliver says in a high-pitch voice over the body of the more than half-naked mid-twenty man. The image isnʼt gruesome, but the butler boy looks like heʼs going to be sick all the same. “Billiam, is your butler good?” 

“Butler, two words.” 

“Well—” 

“That was one.” 

“Mhm!” Butler boy says, and Karl watches perturbedly as he flinches away as Billiam reaches over to the body, checking the pulse. “Definitely dead, any leads? This is sloppy work, gentlemen.” 

Butler boy flinches harder, and the sound of debate rings across the empty corridors. The power cuts off again, and he hides in a box. 

He survives. Lyaria does not. 

Like Robert Brownings Duke, Billiam says he would never do the dirty work himself, James is accused of the crime and Sebastian tries to clear himself and instead of James, he is unofficially declared guilty. 

“So, Billiam, do you know any hiding spots? This is your, uh, house, right?” Billiam seems nice, Oliver almost screams when he realises hes going to be left alone with James, and Billiams face twists, “Mansion, not house.” 

Billiam seems nice, but he is rich, and those aren't synomys. Karl does smile genuinely when Billiam leads him through secret tunnels expertly though, “Of course.” 

It is red, like the blood of Drew under the Butlers shoe, like the liquid seeping through the floorboards of the room Oliver and James occupied, like something straight from hell. It welcomes him in, and he begs. 

He wakes up in bed.

* * *

“Billiam is such a cool name,” Techno says to Karl, who just smiles harder, clearly forced but itʼs the thought that counts. 

“You should uh, go.” Karl says and wow, Techno thinks, this is kind of cringe. He wrings his hands together, “the village?” 

“What?” Karl says confused, is he dealing with another Ranboo here? He barely suppresses rolling his eyes and he climbs the staircase up. He makes sure to slam the door hard when he leaves, because he was raised with two brothers, so heʼs petty. 

And tired. His trident takes energy, and he barely manages to not slump when he sees the outline of snow. 

The sky is dark, he opens his front door to the sound of a _vrrp_ which roughly translates to happy enderman noise. Heʼs getting good at this. “You took a while to come back, i thought— i was worried— um, hello!” 

“Hello.” He responds, trying to keep the sheer lack of social energy out of his voice, but it clearly shows as Ranboo shrinks on himself awkwardly. “Um, i was just— i was just waiting here. Iʼm glad your back, iʼll just go—” 

“Wait,” he says, cracking his shoulders, “iʼm making myself some food. Stay if you want.” Ranboos smile reaches his eyes, itʼs sweet. 

The Potatoes are served with steak. They talk about their day. Phil calls him and says heʼll come by soon, and theyʼll look for a village together. 

The voices ruin it, as they always do, because as he goes to sleep long after Ranboo left, they are filled with hatred. 

* * *

The next day, he wakes up abnormally late, and he hears a knock on the door when he finishes breakfast (even though its probably 5 in the afternoon). Steve bites his finger and so heʼs in a particularly snippy mood when Badboyhalo is on the other side of the door. He thought it was Phil. 

“Weʼre going on a road trip!” Bad says brightly. 

“Paved with memories?” He asks lamely. God. He wishes it was Phil. 

“Alright, do you have a boat? Trident? Open mind?” Bad lists off and Techno doesnʼt respond, “Can i bring my bear?” 

Silence. “Do you need too?” Exasperation is heavy and Techno smiles to himself, he feels like Tommy right now, unnecessarily annoying. “Yes. He is my support animal and his name is Steve, Steve the bear.” 

Traveling across an ocean with a polar bear and a demon-cultist is a first, but itʼs fun. Steve is a strong swimmer. Are there Polar Bear Olympics? Steve would do good. Steve is so cool. 

Steve isnʼt a good hunter however, because despite managing to bite almost every finger Techno has, itʼs him that manages to spot Ranboo hiding behind a singular grass block in his enderman-tall glory. 

Bad doesnʼt notice, so he doesnʼt care. Ranboo can stalk all he wants. Bad leads him (and unknowingly, Ranboo) to his weird egg shack. (“ _This looks like the type of place people get shanked,” Tommy would probably say_.) “Do you hear the egg?” Bad asks and he gives him a look that accurately represents, No Bad. I do not hear the egg. 

Itʼs different shades of Red and the vines spread across the room awkwardly. Is it a hatching egg? Thatʼll be awkward. Unless itʼs a dinosaur, did dinosaurs lay eggs? 

“Bad! What are you doing?!” Puffys voice rings out, and he watches slightly amused as Bad practically slumps down. “Puffy, hello.” 

“Hi.” He waves, and she waves back before continuing her shouting at Bad. He spaces out, to be honest. “— itʼs not a good idea!” 

“Puffy, you can, you can go. Okay. Techno. Techno, isnʼt the egg lovely? How about you try to give the egg an offering? Itʼll give you anything— power, money, shoes—” 

“I like my shoes.” He says sheepishly, just over the weird cave-like sounds the Egg produces. How is that possible. 

Ranboo is in the corner of his eye, looking like he is going to be sick. Gross. He hopes the egg is cleanable. 

Thousands of voices screaming at him is normal, but for a moment, he hears something unique, ghostly. It asks him—

“Do you hear the egg?” Bad asks again, like a priest. He doubles down on his previous stare by saying, “No.” 

It probably means nothing. The sound of wretching fills the room, and Bads neck whips around so fast he almost wants to book the man an appointment with a chiropractor. 

The egg is easy to clean. Ranboo cries as Techno escorts him out, with the distraction of Puffy, babbling things about voices. The kid will learn. Techno does not feel guilt as he practically throws the kid in his own house, only comforting him by telling him that heʼs safe. A voice is nothing. 

And so he sleeps. 

* * *

“Do i know you?” The egg asks softly, as if talking to an old-time friend. 

“I hope not.” Techno replies, just as softly. There is no fear in his voice, no cat and mouse game. The voice takes priority over the hundreds of thousands shouting over it. “My saviour,” one of the voices say. 

He falls asleep easily, the promise of forgetting this encounter guides him to rest. Is it greed to want to believe he isnʼt destined to be a monster, he doesnʼt know.


End file.
